Sitting in the cold police interrogation room was not on my list of things I would want to be doing in the middle of the night. Sleep was at the very top of the list, and if I wasn't tired, reading was a close second. Having two disgruntled men in uniform stare me down while I was still in my pajamas had not made the cut, unfortunately.
"Okay, Poppy, why don't you tell me what happened one last time?" This was requested by Officer Thomas, the more burly and bald one of the two, as they both walked back into the room. There was only one fluorescent light hanging from the ceiling and no windows in the small room, making it fairly dark and creepy.
I inwardly groaned. "I have told you twice now."
Thomas shrugged, pulling his notepad and pen closer to him. The table we were seated at was small, putting me in a closer position across from authority than I normally like to get myself into. "Just tell us again to refresh my memory."
They thought I didn't understand their tactics. I had watched enough crime investigation shows to know that they wanted to make sure my story was bulletproof and to see if I would slip up. I had been through enough situations like this to know that my account was what mattered. I leaned back into my plastic chair and crossed my arms over my chest, letting no expression cross my face as to not give anything away.
"Like I said before," I sighed deeply, hoping to convey the boredom of a juvenile teen. "I lit a candle in my room. I must have fallen asleep while I was reading and knocked the candle over in my sleep. It all happened so fast..." I let my voice fade, hoping I wouldn't have to say anymore by making myself seem in shock. I would bring out the tears, but I never was one who was able to cry on demand.
"Mmhm," hummed Officer Banks, the other officer in the room. He was a lot younger than Thomas, but still had lines on his forehead from the stress of his job. He leaned forward and rested his clamped hands side by side on the table. "Now, Ms. Linch, would you like to tell the truth?"
That shocked me out of my unflustered facade. I quickly reviewed what I had just said, looking for any errors I might have made that conflicted with my story, but nothing appeared wrong. I felt my thumb unconsciously rubbing over my wrist, but other than that, I remained inscrutable. Shaking off the nerves, I, too, leaned forward as to not lose any advantage on these men. Being a seventeen—but on the brink of eighteen—year old female in the midst of two Alpha males already put me at a disadvantage and I didn't need anything else putting me further below their egos. Add in the pitiful ingredient of living in foster care and jumping from foster home to foster home since I was six quicker than people change their minds, I was considered a nuisance that the police had to swat out of their eyesight.
"I don't understand what you are saying," I admitted, mentally praising myself for keeping my voice steady.
Thomas ticked one of his eyebrows and his lips twitched, seemingly amused. "The reports came in about the fire," he started, sending shivers down my spine. He opened the file he had set down on the table when he walked in and slid one of the papers across the table towards me. I picked it up after a moment of keeping his gaze and skimmed over the information. "The candle was not involved in the fire. In fact, there wasn't a candle to be found. That is interesting, don't you think, Officer Banks?"
"Very interesting, indeed." Banks swiftly replied, his eyes penetrating my forehead as I continued reading the report.
These men must have not spoken enough with my current foster parents, who had a strict rule that matches and lighters were not allowed in the house, especially me with my past record. There would have been no reason to have a candle in the house with no lighter and with no lighter no way to light a candle. My story was crumbling and my steel facade was falling with it. "This paper says that the source of the fire was unidentifiable." I mentioned, making sure that the reports showed nothing that could give me away before setting the paper back down and sliding it over to the file.
Thomas lost his smirk. "Yes, and we need you to fill in the blanks for us, Poppy." We all sat together in silence for a while before he finally sighed and amended, "listen, Poppy, you can tell us what happened. If the fire was because of faulty wiring your foster parents have insurance. If it wasn't...we can help you. Just tell us what happened."
My foster parents were now doubt pressing charges of arson against me at this very moment and I had no way of getting myself out of this mess by speaking because I would only dig myself into a deeper hole. I kicked my chair away and crossed my feet on top of the table in an act of rebellion. "I'm not speaking anymore until I get a lawyer."
A knock sounded at the door to the interrogation room, but before I could call out that there was no reason to knock, a woman walked into the room, followed by a young man around my age. The woman looked dressed to impress, wearing a plum cocktail dress, high heels, and her brunette hair was neatly styled into a french twist. Her partner, on the other hand, looked underdressed compared to her by wearing a dusty grey t-shirt and jeans. His dirty blonde hair was messily pulled back into a short ponytail and his sneakers were more than fairly used.
They both smoothly took the seats previously occupied by Thomas and Banks, their eyes on me. I had my head resting on my arms atop the table because I had drifted to sleep after the men left short of an hour ago. The knocking was what woke me up and made me realize I needed to be more aware of my surroundings. I lifted my head from my arms and leaned back into my chair, wincing from the pain of being hunched over. "Are you my lawyers?" My voice was raspy from sleeping, and I eyed the man suspiciously, seeing how obviously too young he was to be a lawyer. Maybe that was the police department's tactic—making sure I got an unqualified and unsuitable lawyer so that I would definitely be sent to a juvenile delinquent center or even jail if I was convicted of a hard enough crime.
The woman sent me a dazzling smile, almost making the room seem warmer than it was. "No, but we are here to help you. It's Poppy White, correct?"
I puckered my lips, not liking being in a situation where I was not in control. While before the cops were the ones taking charge, I still had been in similar past situations and knew all of the right answers. Here, I didn't even know who these people were. "Yes." I curtly replied, not wanting to slip up by adding extra words.
The woman tilted her head to the side, a pitiful expression settling over her face. She must know my history. The male revealed no such emotion, and instead was analyzing my face as if I would reveal anything about myself. "Ok, Poppy, my name is Tracy Lilts. My friend here is Finn Cole. We are here to talk about the fire, or more importantly, the accumulation of fires." Tracy placed her purse that she carried in onto the table and pulled out a stack of papers. She neatly placed her purse back onto the ground and then picked up the papers to read them.
"When you were fifteen you were kicked out of a foster home for setting a bookshelf on fire. At the age of twelve, you had to move foster homes because you burned all of your bed sheets. Ten years old—"
"Alright, alright. I get it. You know my history. What are you going to do with it?" My voice was sharp and I could hear my panic seeping into my words. I yanked the hair band off of my wrist and put my hair up into a messy bun—a nervous tick of mine. This woman was smarter than the cops and was putting things together. I needed to be extra careful with these two or my secrets would escape me.
"Listen, Pyro, we know what you are." Finn snapped, not putting up with my sassy attitude. Tracy's face snapped to his with disapproval in her eyes before turning back to me with a smile that was meant to comfort me.
"Poppy, what Finn," she shot him a quick glare at her partner, "here is trying to say is that we understand that you have a gift and we want to help you." Her face was cheerful, and for a second, I felt the weight that had grown on my shoulder for years begin to lift, but then reality hit me. These people had no idea who I was or the abilities I was capable of. I had to remain quiet and keep to myself so no one else would get hurt. I was a danger to everyone but myself.
"I don't know what you are talking about and I'm not going to speak anymore until my actual lawyer comes." I defensively crossed my arms over my chest, trying to signal to the good-cop bad-cop team that I wasn't willing to cooperate any longer.
Finn slams his fist onto the table, making me jump. Instead of snapping at me like I was expecting, he turned to Tracy. "We don't have all day. The cops won't be gone for long and I really don't feel like breaking out of a jail cell today so can I just throw her over my shoulder and we can get this show on the road?"
My mouth was agape. I didn't understand how this man could be so confident that he would be able to escape a prison jail, or that he would he able to throw me over his shoulder like a caveman! I knew that he wouldn't be able to touch me without getting third-degree burns, but his confidence threw me for a loop. As if he completely believed that he would be able to overpower me.
"Finn," Tracy stated curtly, silencing him. While he was silenced, Finn clamped his jaw shut and glared daggers into me, as if it was my fault that he decided to show up. Tracy kept her stern glare on Finn before softening and turning back to me. "Poppy, we three all have something in coming. There are people all around the world like you, like us, who have gifts that involve the elements. I have the power of controlling water. Finn can also manipulate water. And you, you Poppy," her voice raised a bar with excitement, "can control fire!"
I felt the air free from my lungs and spots begin to blur my vision. She knew. They knew. My eyes darted around the room to find a means of escape but there was no way out without trying to speed past Finn and the more Tracy talked the more I understood Finn's confidence. "You don't know anything about me. You can't help me. I am just a delinquent who hops foster homes and didn't have a model figure growing up. Nothing a couple of years of therapy can't fix so I don't need you."
The pity only grew on Tracy's face. "But, Honey, I can help you. This is my job. I find people like us that need help harnessing their powers and I bring them to a safe place where they can learn and become a member of society without the danger of burning down homes." The shift in her eyes told me exactly what I needed to know.
"How far back did you go in my files," I hissed, feeling the familiar heating of my fingertips as my blood began to boil. Tracy, this woman, had said the wrong thing and now was the time for her departure.
Tracy and Finn glanced at each other, sending silent signals that I did not approve of. Finally, Tracy moved her chair in closer to the table and reached out to grab my hands in both of hers. Before I had the change to pull away from her grasp before I burned her, she clasped her fingers around mine. Steam lifted into the air as a sizzling sound filled the room. I stared down at our conjoined hands, fascinated by the slim coating of water that not covered her hands to protect herself from the tiny flames licking off of my fingertips and my stovetop hot palm.
"That doesn't matter." Tracy's words moved my eyes away from our hands and up to her hope-filled eyes. "What matters is that I am able to help you. The place that I want to take you to can help you. Do you really want to keep hoping from foster home to foster home until you are considered an adult and tried for arson? And then what? You need to learn to control your powers, Poppy, and I am here, now, offering you my help.
'What do you say? Are you going to join Finn and I or stay here and await uncertain consequences?" Her words brought forth what I had been trying to bury that night. I would no doubt be guilty of some crime, and being in close quarters with people was not a situation I was willing to put myself in. At that moment, it seemed that Tracy was my best option, and all I had to go on that she wasn't trapping me into some scheme to send me to juvie was the water continually being discharged from her hands.
That was also a lot to go on seeing as I was currently unable to tame the heat unfurling from my hands and she was the only one keeping the interrogation room in tact.
I felt a tear escape my eye, but it quickly evaporated into steam once it touched my skin. "Just promise me this," I began, earning a powerful nod from Tracy, "you aren't sending me to the looney bin or anything like that, right? This is legit? You are really going to help me learn not to hurt anyone?" Past doubt creeped into my voice, which I had learned from all the years of mistrust by being sent from one family's care to another without a backward's glance.
A lone tear fell down Tracy's cheek too, and kept on rolling unlike mine. "I promise you Poppy, this is legit and I am going to take care of you."
I glanced over at Finn to see if he was still annoyed, but his eyes were trained on the table and away from me. This was my chance. A chance to finally leave the foster care system and, if Tracy was telling the truth, to learn how to not harm anyone else in my fits of mass emotion. I had to take the chance. "Alright, I will go with you."
"Great." Finn stood up before I had even finished my sentence. "Let's get moving before we are caught." He was already walking towards the door when Tracy and I finally parted hands. I felt the palm of my hand to see if it was still hot, but it returned back to normal temperatures. "Come on, Pyro, we need to leave now." Finn's voice caught my attention and I looked up to see Tracy was now next to Finn standing by the door. I shuffled to my feet and Finn barely opened the door to peer out. "Okay, the coast is clear. Let's go." Finn slipped out of the room, and Tracy reached back to grab my arm and guide me out, too. The only noise we made as we walked down the empty hallway was the sound of Tracy's heels clacking on the tiled floor.
"There is a back exit around here somewhere so we don't have to go past the front office. I just have to find it..." Finn's whispers seemed to echo across the walls despite how quiet he was being. I was trying to hold my breath as to not allow any noise to escape, but I was also on the verge of hyperventilating from fear that we would be caught. This night had already been crazy, beginning with the fire, and then the investigation, and now trying to escape a police department. I was exhausted and my body demanded sleep from the exertion of bringing forth fire from my body was beginning to take a toll on me.
It was a lot easier leaving the police department than I thought it would be. I was thinking we would have to reenact a spy movie and climb through the ceiling vents or use my never learned karate skills on guards who were stationed at every corner. Instead, Finn merely led us down a series of winding hallways until we approached a door with a bright red exit sign hanging overhead. He pushed the door open and I tensed, waiting for alarms to go off and red lights to activate, but we were only greeted by the heat of a regular Georgia summer night.
I closed the door behind me and Tracy led us to a car parked in a dim corner of the lot, which already had a man sitting in the driver's seat. "That was anticlimactic," I murmured, although I was actually pleased we faced no obstacles. Despite letting through a few tears earlier in the room, I rebuilt my guard on the way out of the station. Tracy said she was going to help me, but she was still a complete stranger, and I trusted Finn less than her. The only things I had to go on that I was making the right decision were my gut instinct and the water that emanated from Tracy's hands. I had proof that she was like me and I couldn't ignore the facts.
Tracy laughed. "Let's be grateful." While I figured that she would take the passenger seat leaving me in the back with Finn, she kindly opened one of the back doors for me and then climbed in on the other side and allowed Finn to take the front seat. Once we were all strapped in, Tracy gestured towards the man in the driver's seat. He looked to be in his mid-forties and was dressed like any other chauffeur, including the funny black cap. "Poppy, this is Jimmy. He will be taking us to the airport." As if the statement was a command, Jimmy started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, no doubt on his way to the nearest airport.
I felt my heart skip a beat. I had never been to an airport before, much less a plane. Even when I was transferred to foster parents out of the state I was always driven there. "Wait, airport? I need my things before we go anywhere."
Tracy glanced at me doubtfully. "Honey, we will provide all of the necessities you need at the school. Besides, it would be dangerous for all of us to allow you to go back to your foster house where you were just removed from."
School? I was beginning to realize how in over my head I was. I had no idea where I was going or what I was getting myself into. For all I knew, the government decided to splurge on orphans and send some of us to a boarding school as to not have to worry about our troublemaking anymore. I might just have to wait until the next stoplight to jump and roll out of the car and hope for the best. "No, you don't understand. I need to go back to the foster home. I have stuff there that can't be replaced." Pictures. Tokens. The memories in some of my items kept me breathing in moments of sadness and I wouldn't be able to leave them behind.
Tracy and Finn shared a worried look and I cut in before they could shut me down. Grabbing one of Tracy's hands, I gained her attention. "Listen, Ms. Lilts, I trusted you, right? I am here, in this car with you right now, right? Now is the time for you to trust me. I can make it in and out of the house without being noticed. I need to go back." Our eyes stayed locked while Tracy decided what the next plan of action was.
Finally, after what felt like forever, she gave me a small smile. "Alright, tell Jimmy the address of where we are going."
"Tracy!" Finn exclaimed, whipping his upper torso around in the chair to face Tracy as I rattled off the address of my most recent foster home to Jimmy. The chauffeur made a quick u-turn and began going in the direction where all of my memories were being held.
"So you can get in without being detected? How many kids are staying in there right now?" Finn analyzed the situation that was my foster house. It was two stories and a little run down, but that was how all of the houses were on this side of town. All of the lights were dark and it looked like everyone was asleep. The couple I was staying with were one of the nicer ones I have been under the care of, and I actually felt bad about torching up a corner of one of their rooms.
"Four. I will be right back." I whispered as I walked away from the small group standing outside of Jimmy's car.
"Poppy!" Finn hissed, not wanting me to part ways with the group. It was the first time he used my actual name and I almost wanted to laugh, but I had to remain silent and stealthy as I was about to break into a house.
I reached my faithful friend beside the house—a large elm tree. Lifting my arms up high to grasp the nearest branch, I felt the familiar adrenaline rush from escaping the house and returning back after a long night of wandering, and my fingers clenched harder into the wood. There were scorch marks on some of the branches from the nights I wasn't able to cool off while I was away, but tonight was different. While I maneuvered my ways through branches to reach the second story of the house, I stole glances out towards the lone car on the street and the three people. I had a small pit in my stomach that believed the moment they dropped me off at the foster house, they would jump right back into the car and drive away, leaving me to return back to my confused life of having to try and figure out who and what I am. I climbed the tree with the only memory of Tracy's water colored hands pushing me forward.
I reached my old window and pushed it upwards, letting the cool air from the A/C and the scent of burnt wood seep out into the night. I deftly crawled inside and stood up, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Lifting a finger into the air as if I was pointing, I managed to create a little torch off of my fingertip that acted as my light source.
After grabbing my red duffle bag from the closet, I began filling it up with clothes and other necessities. I also was able to change out of my pajamas and into a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. Doing a sweep of the room to make sure I wasn't leaving anything important to me behind, I caught something in the corner of my eye. I scooped up the small, faded blue photo album that I had inherited since being placed into the foster system. It contained photos of myself and my family since I was a baby all the way until I was six. It was my most prized possession as it was all I had left of my parents, and I would not live with myself if I left it behind.
As I was cherishing the fact that I hadn't left the worn book behind, I didn't hear my bedroom door open and someone enter the room behind me. "Poppy?" The loudly blunt voice shocked me into letting out my fire, which was good because I didn't need anyone in this household knowing my power.
I whipped around, clutching the album to my chest, only to release a deep breath of relief when I saw that is was merely Timmy. "Timmy," I sighed, trying to sound upset. "It is past your bedtime you need to go back to bed."
The five year old's big eyes scanned the bag I had packed and the nearly empty room.
"You're leaving for good this time, right?" The sadness was clear in his expression as I had somehow managed to become the boy's idol. I tried to stay away from the other kids in the foster homes that I stayed in so that I wouldn't become attached, but Timmy stuck to me like glue and wouldn't allow me to create space.
I set the photo album inside my duffle bag and kneeled down to be the boy's height. "Come here," I whispered, and with those words, Timmy ran into my open arms and held me as tight as his tiny arms would allow. "Yeah, bud, I am leaving. I need you to be brave for me, okay? Can you do that? I will be gone, but just think of me whenever you need some courage and you will be fine." I clutched him tighter to me, not letting any tears escape my eyes. If I was telling Timmy to be brave, I had to be brave, too. I couldn't remain comfortable bouncing from foster home to foster home. I needed to face my fears and leave the stability—at least what I considered stable—of being in the foster care system and go with Tracy. I needed to embrace my power instead of trying to extinguish it from within. Maybe she will be my saving grace.
Timmy finally nodded into my chest and I gave him one last squeeze before releasing him. I held the boy out at arm's length and commanded, "Okay, Timmy, I need you to go back to bed now. Go quietly so no one hears you." He nodded again and swiftly turned around and escaped out of the room. I listened to the small patters of his feet until they faded before standing back up and zipping up my bag. Once I had it secure around my back, I dove back out of the window and scurried down the tree, jogging to those who waited for me.